Cressida McLaughlin - The Once in a Blue Moon Guesthouse - The perfect feelgood romance

Will held her gaze, his fingers drumming on the glass tabletop. ‘Honestly?’

Robin nodded.

‘I was imagining, y’know, red satin sheets and a heart-shaped bed, maybe some fluffy handcuffs.’

Robin gasped. ‘ Handcuffs? ’ she squealed, and then, remembering how small the garden was, lowered her voice. ‘Is that the impression I gave, answering the door to you last night?’

‘No, of course not,’ Will said, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. ‘But you looked so panicked when I asked about a room, and then you said they were “unique” in this mysterious voice and then stood outside the door for so long, as if you didn’t want me to go in. What was I supposed to think?’

‘Well, now I know which direction your mind wanders, I’ll be more careful.’ She shook her head scornfully, but a smile was threatening. She could see how she had come across as over-concerned, perhaps even a little bit unhinged.

‘Hey,’ Will laughed. ‘Come on. I was glad to be proved wrong. It would have been too much, on top of the late drive down, Tabitha’s house and the leak, to then be offered a different kind of service when you let me in. I slept like a baby, and I’m looking forward to using that telescope to check out the real stars later, if you’re happy for me to stay another night?’

‘Of course,’ Robin said. ‘I have no bookings in that room immediately, so stay as long as you need to. Though, I should remind you that Bear Grylls would have any leak fixed within twenty-four hours.’

‘Yeah,’ Will said, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head, ‘but I’m not under as much pressure as he usually is. And now I’ve got this cosy guesthouse bedroom to stay in, with fantastic cooked breakfasts every morning, I’m wondering if maybe the leak will turn out to be really difficult to repair.’

His face lit up with a lazy, easy grin, his eyes catching hers and holding on, and Robin felt her cheeks bunch into a smile. She wondered if, maybe, she wanted the leak to take a long time to fix as well.

‘So what happens now, Bear?’

Will dropped his arms, running a hand through his short hair and leaving it tufty like an unruly hedgehog. ‘Now I have to stop sitting in the sunshine chatting to you, and go and see what Tabitha’s house looks like in daylight. I can’t say it’s the most appealing prospect.’

‘Well.’ Robin stood and picked up the empty mugs and the milk jug. ‘This is not a service I was planning to offer, but I’m not going anywhere today, so if you need a refreshment break I’ll do you tea or coffee, maybe even lunch if you’d like it.’

‘You will?’ He stood too, bending briefly and holding his hand out towards Darcy, who got slowly up and padded after him, obedient as ever. ‘That would be beyond generous.’

‘It’s only until you get a kettle set up in the house.’

‘Of course. You’ve just made today a lot brighter.’ He followed her inside. She could sense him behind her, could hear the patter of Darcy’s paws on the linoleum.

‘It’s just a sandwich and a cup of tea,’ Robin said, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Will stopped in the doorway, almost filling it. ‘Believe me, when you’re faced with clearing out your dead aunt’s four-storey house that’s been empty for over a year and has accumulated a leak and at least fifty thousand cobwebs, a cup of tea isn’t “just” anything.’

Robin began to dry the mugs, soaking up his gratitude and, if she was honest, the pleasing sight of him standing in her doorway. ‘If you’d gone down to Mrs Harris at the Seaview Hotel you wouldn’t be getting this treatment.’

‘I picked the right place then,’ he said. ‘Thank you, Robin. Is it OK if I come begging for my first cup of tea in about twenty-five minutes?’

‘Don’t push it,’ she warned, but as she listened to her unexpected guest climb the stairs, followed by his curly-haired and completely adorable companion, she realized she would be happy to make him as many cups of tea as he wanted. Not only because she’d enjoyed the brief amount of time she’d spent in his company, but also because she hadn’t been inside Tabitha’s house for years, and she still felt bad about not making more of an effort to see her on her fleeting return visits from London.

She wanted to see the task that Will was faced with. She wanted to see if the house brought back any childhood memories, to find out how her loving and eccentric neighbour had lived the last years of her life, and whether there were any clues, any proof as to the origin of the plaque on the wall. Despite the promise of fifty thousand cobwebs, she was desperate to see inside number four Goldcrest Road.

Robin pressed her hand against the blue plaque next to the tall, black front door with the brass knocker and remembered, when she’d been much smaller, standing up on tiptoes to try and touch the cool, smooth surface. Now it was level with her shoulder. She read the familiar words: Jane Austen , 1775–1817 , Noted Novelist , stayed here during the summer of 1804 .

Why would it be here if it wasn’t true? Why was everyone so sceptical about it? It wasn’t just Molly who laughed it off whenever she mentioned it; her mum and dad had never entirely believed it, and Tim had always rolled his eyes. She’d read Persuasion , and lots of it was set in Dorset. Lyme Regis with its Cobb wasn’t far away, so surely it was plausible. And what reason could Tabitha have had to fabricate it? Maybe, now that Will was here, with his knowledge of historical houses, they would be able to get to the bottom of it. Maybe he knew the truth already.

She lifted the brass knocker to announce her arrival, but the heavy door moved forward a fraction and Robin realized it wasn’t closed. She pushed it slowly inwards, peering into the gloom.

The first thing that she noticed was the dust. The air was thick with it, dancing in the shaft of sunlight she’d let in, and there was a pervading smell of damp.

‘Hello?’ she called. ‘Door-to-door tea service?’ She stood in the hallway, listening, her eyes drawn to the telephone table below a gold-framed mirror hanging over thick green wallpaper, a white, rotary-dial telephone almost glowing in the sunlight. She had a vivid memory of lifting the heavy receiver, dragging the dial round with her finger, calling random numbers purely because it was so much more exotic than her parents’ push-button telephone.

‘Hello?’ she tried again, and this time she heard a series of clunks and bashes from upstairs, and then Darcy appeared, padding slowly down the stairs as if she wasn’t used to such a steep descent.

Robin crouched and put the cup of tea on the floor, already rehearsing her counter-argument for when Will finally made an appearance and discovered his drink was no longer hot. ‘Darcy,’ she whispered, holding out her arms as the small dog came towards her, and gathering her into an embrace. ‘You’re so cute,’ she whispered. The dog licked her chin and, putting a paw up on her shoulder, let out a sound that was halfway between a bark and a whine. Robin laughed, kissing her on the head, her fur impossibly soft.